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bonnefoisFrom here. imagine your otp getting confused while assembling Ikea furniture.
Matthew sat with his legs crossed, looking from the pile of bolts and boards which was somehow supposed to become a desk. Possibly involving magic or alchemy, but the last thing he needed was Al turning into a suit of armor in the process. Knowing Alfred, he'd never stop jumping around and proclaiming that he was a giant robot now.
He didn't look up when the door opened, though it didn't open with any yells of FREEDOM or being kicked down, so it couldn't be Alfred. It was only a soft voice which made him look up, and instantly break into a smile at the sight of him.
"Cher, what is this?" Francis said. He pushed his golden hair back from his face. He hadn't seen Francis look this disappointed since th poutine debacle.
Matthew pushed up his glasses. "Ikea? Affordable Swedish furniture—"
Francis shook his head. "Cher, cher, there is only one thing the Swedes do right, and that is snow."
"And heavy metal music," Matthew added.
Francis continued on. "Come now, sweep out this trash and we will go for a real desk, something gloriously made and strong enough to endure several celebrations. That desk couldn't even hold your weight, let alone ours combined." He said the latter with a suggestive lilt in his voice which was scientifically proven to make panties fly off.
His, anyways.
Matthew was all too happy to toss aside the instructions.
Matthew sat with his legs crossed, looking from the pile of bolts and boards which was somehow supposed to become a desk. Possibly involving magic or alchemy, but the last thing he needed was Al turning into a suit of armor in the process. Knowing Alfred, he'd never stop jumping around and proclaiming that he was a giant robot now.
He didn't look up when the door opened, though it didn't open with any yells of FREEDOM or being kicked down, so it couldn't be Alfred. It was only a soft voice which made him look up, and instantly break into a smile at the sight of him.
"Cher, what is this?" Francis said. He pushed his golden hair back from his face. He hadn't seen Francis look this disappointed since th poutine debacle.
Matthew pushed up his glasses. "Ikea? Affordable Swedish furniture—"
Francis shook his head. "Cher, cher, there is only one thing the Swedes do right, and that is snow."
"And heavy metal music," Matthew added.
Francis continued on. "Come now, sweep out this trash and we will go for a real desk, something gloriously made and strong enough to endure several celebrations. That desk couldn't even hold your weight, let alone ours combined." He said the latter with a suggestive lilt in his voice which was scientifically proven to make panties fly off.
His, anyways.
Matthew was all too happy to toss aside the instructions.
